Uncovering ADHD During Perimenopause and the Insidious Impacts on Academic Work by Kaylene Ascough

Undertaking a PhD is an arduous task for anyone and has unique challenges for different demographics. For a mature-aged woman going through perimenopause and menopause, though, a whole range of additional challenges can enter the mix. In my case, the associated hormonal changes exacerbated lifelong conditions that went undiagnosed in the past. 

Most people think and talk about the physical symptoms of perimenopause and menopause; hot flushes, difficulty sleeping, aching joints, etc.  What is less often discussed are the mental symptoms; and when they are, it’s usually quite vague and nonspecific such as ‘mood changes’ and ‘brain fog’.  There are many, many symptoms associated with menopause. In fact, I wrote to my friends once about how every symptom that was occurring in my life at the time was attributable to menopause.  What I was not prepared for was just how insidious perimenopause would be. I have since learned that the period where these changes start, and the length of time it can carry on for, is highly variable. Even when you have “officially” reached menopause (i.e., when you have stopped having a period for over 12 months), this does not always mean the end of symptoms.

This means that, particularly with the mental symptoms, you don’t always realise that what is happening to you is a part of the menopause and you can really start to doubt your sanity. Going through this change of life and not knowing, while trying to participate in academic pursuits like a PhD, can leave you feeling truly inadequate, irrelevant and incapable of contributing to your academic field. 

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Everyday Memoirs of a Graduate Student in Zimbabwe by Oswell Moyo 

The deadline for my next manuscript is approaching and corrections have arrived needing urgent attention, and yet I am seated on top of an old single bed engulfed by darkness. Again. my laptop, which has earned names like “fridge” and “desktop” from friends and classmates, is useless when there is a power outage. My city is yet again experiencing a power cut, with it not being unusual for them to occur for a period of 10 to 16 hours a day. Alternative sources of power such as generators are heavily regulated and are only switched on for a few hours a day. And when they are switched on, using that time is dedicated to the necessities: cooking, eating and bathing. Study has to take the back seat, but then I’m reminded of impending deadlines, and that I have to get my work done. I am then filled with the anxiety of, “What can I do?” or “Where should I start?” knowing that my laptop will only fail me again tomorrow. 

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Loss of Identity: Surviving Post-PhD Depression by Amy Gaeta

Completing the biggest achievement of my life has left me in the most zombie, emotionally depleted state of my life. Immediately after defending my dissertation successfully, thereby securing my Ph.D. in English, I found myself soft crying into a pillow and trying to find enough stability to reply to all the “congratulations!” text messages pinging on my phone. This emotional release marked the start of what I’ll refer to as my post-PhD depression: a state of aimlessness, premature cynicism, and loss sparked by the contradictory realization that it is all over and yet there is so much more to do. It is like finishing a marathon after giving all you got only to realize you’ve agreed to compete in a triathlon every day for the rest of your career.

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When Panic Attacks by Karen Tang

“I’m dying.” “Why can’t I breathe?” “What is happening to me?”

These are the thoughts that were running through my head as I gasped for oxygen. It happened so fast, it was a blur. One moment I had been actively listening to my client telling me about their issues and then when I had asked what brought them here, their answer, “Oh, I don’t want to be here.” sent my body into overdrive. It hit like a ton of bricks. My hands were shaking and clammy, my heart rate was racing, tears flowed uncontrollably, and my vision blurred. It was so, so hard to breathe, as if I had an elephant sitting on my chest. And it was almost twice as humiliating as we were in the middle of our role-playing clinical interviews class, where I was the therapist and one of my cohort was the patient, with our professor watching from the next room. I was playing the role of the therapist, that means I’m supposed to be in control, right? But I wasn’t. Not even close.

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